


The Night Will Go As Follows

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-22
Updated: 2009-12-22
Packaged: 2018-10-27 12:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10809240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Ron needs to tell Hermione something, something important, but he can’t quite get it out. He hatches a plan. Ron may have brilliant ideas, but his execution has always been a bit off. Hermione, in the mean time, keeps having visions of fairytales and encounters a little accidental late night voyeurism. Lyrics by The Spill Canvas





	The Night Will Go As Follows

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for HP_Spring_Fling on Livejournal 2009. Lyrics by The Spill Canvas

**The Night Will Go As Follows**

 

 

 

_The August sky will then bare witness_  
To a brand new chapter with torn up pages  
When the planets align, I can feel the gates opening  
To my courage  
As I proceed to run my fingers through her hair  
And forget everyone who's jaded, 'cause they don't matter  
And I don't care 

 

 

 

Ron Weasley’s eyes reluctantly crept open as the warm morning light seeped through the curtains of his spacious room at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. He stretched his arms above his head, careful not to disturb Hermione, who was draped across his chest and sleeping soundly. He let his hand rest lightly on her back and pressed his face into her hair. Mornings like this were perfect in Ron’s opinion, for he was able to wake up entwined with her and feel like the luckiest bloke in the world.

 

Hermione let out a soft groan and shifted her head to the other side, wrapping her arms around his torso and bringing a familiar smile to Ron’s face. They had spent their first night together the very day Harry defeated Voldemort and Ron had been pleasantly surprised to find that she cuddled close throughout the night. At first he had thought this delightful behavior might have been a reaction to the horrors of that particular day, but ever since he had been happy to hold on to her just as tightly each time they had slept together.

 

It had been three months; one summer in which Ron and Hermione had been officially dating. But if they were being honest, they had belonged to one another long before then. Ron wanted to tell her he loved her, that she meant everything to him, but every time he even thought of saying those simple words, his throat would close up and his stomach would churn like he had a belly full of slugs. This of course led to anger and frustration, and all his intentions of love regrettably flew away.

 

_In a romantic fashion_  
I will experiment with my fear right before her eyes  
And every smile that's unveiled will be soaked  
In my nervous charm 

 

Ron was no coward; he had spent a lot of time during the previous year convincing himself that he wasn’t. However, the prospect of Hermione not loving him back, of thinking him a fool, frightened him to the core. He simply couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, not after everything they had been through together. He worried that the infuriatingly logical side of Hermione would determine that his emotions had come to a head too soon, or worse, that his love was completely unwelcome, even after three glorious months sharing the same bed.

 

What if she still believed he wasn’t good enough?

 

“Morning,” said Hermione, looking up at him, her earnest brown eyes struggling to stay open in the light.

 

Ron kissed her forehead and reluctantly began to slip out from under her. “Sorry, love, I’ve still got to pack for Seamus’ getaway,” he said apologetically.

 

“I’ve been telling you to do that for days, Ron Weasley! We’re leaving in less than an hour,” Hermione huffed, wrapping a sheet around her and gathering up her already laid-out clothes.

 

Ron returned a defiant look as she retreated to the loo. He then pulled out his old duffel, grabbed a handful of things from the top drawer, a handful from the second, and one from the bottom, threw his toilet kit on top of his other things and zipped up the duffel just in time to hear water beginning to run in his shower. Intrigued, Ron quickly stripped off his clothes and made his way into the now steaming washroom.

 

“Can I join you?” he asked quietly, peeking his head around the curtain. He had to stifle an audible gasp at the site of warm water cascading over the caramel curve of her bum.

 

“You’re packed already, are you?” she asked, a slight smile in her voice.

 

He didn’t answer, his body being too eager to press up against hers. Hermione let out a soft moan when his hands wrapped around her waist, immediately causing Ron’s cock to begin aching with need. He pressed his erection firmly into the soft crevice of her bum. She moaned again and thrust her hips back against him.

 

“You feel so good,” Ron croaked, cupping her breasts.

 

Hermione’s neck angled back so she could reach his lips. He responded by snaking one hand down to reach a finger between her folds, feeling her wet heat that had nothing to do with the stream of the shower.

 

“Ron!” she cried out, her hips bucking.

 

Ron ran a stiff tongue up the tender area of her neck, licking the droplets of water that had gathered there. He continued to move his fingers across her center as his tongue ranged over the flesh of her shoulders.

 

“Need to taste you!” he whispered passionately, his tongue longing to bury itself in her soft flesh.

 

“Please,” she whimpered, turning to face him.

 

Ron carefully moved a wet curl from her eyes and kissed her hungrily, his tongue dancing rapidly with hers. He kissed down her body, pausing to taste the pert skin of her nipples and earning a hungry, breathy cry. He sank slowly to his knees, his forehead just touching the swell on the underside of her breasts. When his lips approached her tangle of curls, he kissed her abdomen and gently lifted one leg over his shoulder. She gasped lightly in fear.

 

“Don’t worry, love, I won’t let you fall,” he whispered, marveling at the way her center was splayed out for him. He sank down to his haunches, wrapped a steadying hand around her thigh, and ran his tongue between her folds, eliciting a shuddering moan from her lips.

 

He circled her clit, sucking it gently between his lips as her strong thighs began to shake. He took his free hand, which had been stroking his throbbing erection, and pressed two fingers gently inside her.

 

“Oh god, Ron,” she moaned, grinding her hips against his face in ecstasy.

 

Ron didn’t relent, but was spurned on by her forceful body. He gripped her thigh more tightly and moved his tongue over her nub at a maddening pace, angling his fingers to hit the most sensitive areas inside her. Her hands wound in his hair as he felt her body clench forcefully. As her body began to relax, Ron lapped up her juices as they mingled with the cascading water. At last, Hermione fell languidly on top of him, her center hovering immediately over his now straining erection.

 

 

“Hermione,” he moaned, pleading over her rapid panting. Ron took it as a sign that she responded by kissing him passionately. Rising from the tiled floor, he pressed her against he wall in one fluid motion. Taking his cock in her hand, Hermione positioned him easily, allowing him to thrust quickly into her, causing a guttural moan to escape his throat.

 

“Love being inside of you…feels so perfect,” Ron murmured as Hermione’s moans became louder.

 

She wrapped her legs tightly around him as he thrust rapidly into her, forcing her back firmly against the wall. He shuddered, let out a yell, and called her name as he spilled into her, burying his face into her neck.

 

))_)_)_)_)_

 

Ron and Hermione followed Harry and Ginny into The Leaky Cauldron where they planned to meet Seamus and Dean before setting out on their impromptu Irish getaway. With his duffel over his back and Hermione’s suitcase in his hand, Ron spotted his two former roommates nested on the same bench in a side booth, both enjoying mead and a seemingly hilarious joke. Ron quickened his pace to set the heavy bags down and join them.

 

“We were just taking wagers on which one of you randy pairs would be the first caught shagging someplace unseemly. We seem to disagree,” Seamus laughed heartily eyeing Dean. “Y’ see, I say it’s Harry and Ginny because Harry loves to make a scene and Ginny is a bad, bad girl,” he winked as Ginny huffed.

 

“But I say it will be Ron and Hermione because those fights have to be foreplay,” Dean said, a little more shyly.

 

“Well obviously our sex lives are fascinating to those who don’t have one,” Hermione cut in briskly.

 

“Quite. It’s sad really,” Ginny added, giving the guys a withering look.

 

Dean and Seamus exchanged an odd look with raised eyebrows.

 

Ron couldn’t help but smirk at Hermione’s impressive wit and he let his hand slide a little higher up her thigh. The conversation settled into more comfortable subjects while they all finished their drinks, after which Seamus directed them around the corner of the pub into Muggle London where they could get a car that would take them to their portkey.

 

“Sorry about the travel conditions, but it’s hard to get an international portkey on short notice, so we have to go to Biggleswade,” Dean apologized, pointing at a black vehicle a few blocks away and giving the car a beeping noise. “The portkey is right in the bloody middle of a muggle area. Ruddy Ministry!”

 

Hermione took Ron’s hand as sauntered toward the car. Suddenly, she let out a gasp and Ron reached for the wand that was hidden in his sock.

 

“No, I’m fine. It’s just…” she began before pausing to gaze at the window of what Ron knew to be a Muggle bikesackal shop.

 

He walked up and put his arm around her. “What’s so fascinating about Muggle transport…unless you’re my dad of course,” he said, bemused by her wistful stare at a light blue bicycle with a wide seat.

 

“This looks just like the big old bike my father bought to teach me how to ride when I turned eleven,” she said quietly. “Then all of the Hogwarts stuff happened and I guess I just forgot to learn.”

 

“Come on you two! I don’t want to dawdle!” Seamus said, dancing from foot to foot.

 

Hermione sighed, took one last look, and walked to rejoin the group. Ron followed, but his mind was buzzing. He decided to take drastic action as they neared the car.

 

“I forgot socks!” Ron shouted a little too loudly. He ran back toward The Leaky Cauldron before anyone could stop him or follow. He sped through the pub, tapped the bricks, and ran as fast as he could to Gringotts.

 

There was a line. Of course there was a line. In fact, Gringotts was packed, and Ron knew better than to exercise his impatience with the Goblins. He stood in the shortest line, shifting his weight from one leg to the other anxiously. When his turn came, he stumbled over himself to get to the window.

 

“I’dliketomakethismugglemoney,” he spat out as quickly as possible.

 

“Which country?” the Goblin sneered.

 

“What?”

 

“I can’t give you money until I know which currency you need,” he said impatiently.

 

“Oh right, yes. I’ll be in London,” Ron said, sliding half of his meager savings across the counter.

 

The goblin nodded, took his money, and shuffled away mumbling something about London being a city. He was back quickly with a small stack of odd looking notes, and Ron hastily thanked the Goblin as he ran out the door. He sped down the street, bursting through The Leaky Cauldron and into Muggle London.

 

When he got to the corner of the street where the bike shop stood, he moved stealthily toward it, hoping none of his friends standing at the car would turn around. As soon as the coast was clear, he slipped through the door of the shop.

 

“Well hullo there! What can I do ya fer, lad?” a jolly, small old man greeted him while polishing a bike on display.

 

“Yes, I would like to buy that blue bike there,” Ron said, handing the bloke his money.

 

“Whoa there lad, I didn’t even haf ter work fer that sale! Yeh positive on this one? Want ter ride it around at all?” he asked, wheeling the bike toward Ron, who could feel his embarrassment rising.

 

“Well…y’see…it’s for…and she’s right outside…a surprise,” Ron mumbled while shuffling nervously.

 

“Say not more! I’ll get yeh on yer way,” said the shopkeeper. In hardly a moment he had already polished the bike and tied a big white bow across the handle bars.

 

“That’s 150 pounds,” he smiled, pushing some buttons and lighting up the price on a tiny window. Ron handed him all of his money.

 

The man counted the money twice and looked quizzically at Ron. “Ummm yes. Well that’s a bit much. Here’s 50 back,” he said, the cheer in his voice now tinged with a little skepticism.

 

“Right, my mistake. Thanks!” Ron exclaimed, running the bike back around the corner. Once out of view of the car again, Ron shrunk the bike, shoved it in his pocket, and transfigured some newspaper on the ground into socks. Once finished, he rushed back to the car.

 

“Dear Lord, Ron, you nearly gave me a heart attack! I thought you had disappeared. Why didn’t you listen and pack last night?” Hermione said sternly.

 

“I know love. Sorry!” Ron smiled, kissing her cheek. She was momentarily rendered speechless until Seamus whistled at them to get into the car.

 

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

 

_Brash and hopeful_  
That my luck won't perish tonight  
And when the overcast tries to kill me  
It's your slow motion rain  
That falls warm on my neck that keeps me alive 

 

The Finnegan’s stone cottage was like something out of a fairytale. Hermione imagined for a second that Snow White would emerge, singing to various woodland creatures. She laughed to herself and followed everyone inside.

 

“Right, so there is a bedroom off of the kitchen, and a loft with a bed up this ladder here. I know it’s not very private, but I’m sure we’ll manage,” Dean explained, winking slightly.

 

“Where are you two sleeping?” Ron asked.

 

“We’ll take the sofa bed,” Seamus smiled, flopping on the couch.

 

“Well that hardly seems fair. We can take the sofa,” Harry said.

 

Hermione felt a twinge of guilt for feeling relieved that Ron hadn’t volunteered.

 

“Nah, there are charms we can do,” Seamus grinned cheekily, raising his eyebrows. “So pick your beds, unpack, and we’ll have a good old Muggle-style cookout for dinner.”

 

Ron exchanged a confused look with Hermione before she levitated her things over the balcony to the loft. Ron shrugged and followed. She noticed for not the first time that he had been strangely acquiescent since he went to get his socks, lifting her luggage, accepting her admonishments about his packing, and not even yelling back when she lost her temper at him when he landed on her after the portkey.

 

Hermioine was starting to grow suspicious to say the least.

 

((((()))))))))))

 

Hermione woke the next day to a fresh Irish morning tangled in a mess of blankets and Ron’s arms. Sweet smells were wafting up to their bed and Hermione had to shake down another fairy tale vision – this one of seven dwarves fixing her breakfast.

 

“I smell bacon!” Ron said excitedly, leaping out of bed and throwing on his pajama bottoms. He reached down and yanked Hermione out of bed. “Come on, I’m starving!”

 

“What’s new?” Hermione mumbled, earning a smirk and a smack on the shoulder. All in all, Hermione was finding this getaway to be a rousing success.

 

After breakfast, Seamus guided them on a hike, and she was pleasantly surprised to find a waterfall and a small pool at their destination.

 

After their previous night of lovemaking, the pool looked very inviting, and Hermione even found the courage to swim in her underwear with the others. Mercifully, Seamus was talked out of skinny-dipping. By the time they had all gathered for another dinner at the cottage, she found herself happy and content.

 

“Ginny and I were thinking of checking out the village tomorrow. Any takers?” Harry said between bites of boiled dinner.

 

“Nah, Seamus and I are going back to that waterfall,” Dean said, an inexplicable blush invading his cheeks.

 

“Yeah, Hermione and I are taking a picnic,” Ron said quietly, his own ears burning red.

 

“Oh we are?” Hermione said, even more suspicious.

 

“Yep,” Ron said, shoveling down more food.

 

“Hermione opened her mouth to question him further, but a sweet roll was quickly jammed between her teeth. She chewed indignantly, but didn’t say anything more.

 

When the next day arrived, Hermione reviewed several daydreams in her head, trying to pinpoint Ron’s intentions surrounding his romantic gesture. She pictured him like the prince in Snow White, coming to pick her up on his white horse, but then concluded that Ron would never get on one. Then she thought he might ask her to live with him, despite the fact that Ron lived with Harry. He could possibly be using this picnic to tell her he was changing his mind and going back to school with her in September, but that seemed even less likely than the horse. When her thoughts drifted to him proposing, Hermione decided it was time to drop the daydreams. After all, she did have a rampant imagination hidden between the layers of books she read.

 

She was out of ideas when she met Ron at the edge of the forest, a basket in his hand. He was standing in front of an ancient gravel road, no wider than a footpath, a vast green meadow at his back. He set his picnic basket down on a stump and grinned sheepishly at her.

 

“I found the perfect spot about a half a mile down this way, but you have to get there first,” he grinned again, reaching into his pocket.

 

“Oh! So there’s a catch,” Hermione said, intrigued by his mystery and drawn to the beautiful sparkle in his eyes.

 

“Close your eyes,” he whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “Engorgio,” Ron said quietly. Hermione raised her eyebrows, but her eyes remained closed. “Okay…open.”

 

Hermione opened her eyes to see Ron standing proudly beside a blue bicycle, a gigantic smile on his face. It was the very same bike she had just seen in the Muggle shop a few days previously. It was the very same model of bike her father had once given her during a simpler time. She walked up slowly and ran her fingers over the chrome handle bars. She could feel herself started to tear up and had to steady her chest a little.

 

“You didn’t forget your socks, did you?” Hermione whispered, not wanting to meet his eyes. She was embarrassed at how weepy she was getting.

 

“Nope, I have a ton of socks. Don’t know how clean they are…” he said, lifting up her chin. “Is it okay? I mean … I know your dad wanted to teach you, but I thought it might be fun.”

 

In a feat of acrobatics she didn’t think possible on her clumsy legs, Hermione jumped over the bike and into Ron’s arms.

 

“It’s perfect. This is…I am…”

 

“Speechless? Not possible!” he chuckled.

 

Ron explained that he didn’t know what he was doing either, so they proceeded to attempt to learn to ride the new bike together. Things were going surprisingly well, and after a few spills and a lecture in rudimentary physics, Ron seemed to have the hang of it. Hermione, on the other hand, was getting frustrated. She kept tipping over as soon as she got going, despite speeding up to keep herself upright. She became very familiar with the sort of grass grown in that particular meadow, as she kept picking it out of her hair.

 

“Let’s try a running start,” he suggested after her tenth futile attempt. He gripped the seat just behind her bum with both hands and started to run as he pushed.

 

Hermione felt herself take off fast as Ron’s footsteps faded away behind her. She began to feel a slight thrill as her feet pedaled faster and harder. She wanted to yell out in excitement, but inhibition kept her at a grin.

 

Her euphoria was short lived as her front wheel hit a pebble. She jerked the handlebars and fell flat to the side.

 

“Shit Hermione!” Ron said after Apparating to her side.

 

“Language,” she groaned, getting to her feet and brushing off her knees. Ron blew lightly at the dust on her hands.

 

“Alright?” he asked, looking her up and down.

 

“Yeah, let’s give it another go,” she said, mustering up her courage to try again.

 

“Excellent,” Ron smiled, kissing her lightly before standing the bike up. “Careful of the ledge over there. It’s not that deep, but it would be pretty bad if you drove into it.”

 

Soon, Hermione was off again, enjoying the wind in her hair, whipping the ponytail behind her head. This time, she did yell out in happiness and turned back to smile at Ron.

 

The panicked look on Ron’s face warned her only seconds before she tumbled over the ledge. She managed to avoid the craggy rocks, but landed hard on the ground. She heard an earth shattering snap inside of her as she threw her arms over her head to keep the bike from hurting her. The pain in her leg began to throb as a scream ripped through her throat.

 

Ron’s hair flashed in the light as he leapt right into the small ravine. Another jolt of pain coursed through her and everything went dark just as she felt Ron’s hand on her face.

 

********

 

Her eyes creaked open, met by a dark room. The surroundings were momentarily unfamiliar until she recognized the garish drapes of her temporary loft bedroom.

 

“She’s awake,” Ginny whispered, her soft brown eyes hovering over Hermione’s. “How are you feeling?”

 

Hermione paused, remembering the loud snap and horrible pain in her leg. She reached down, but found it intact and pain free.

 

“Quite fine, actually,” Hermione said, puzzled. “I’m a little drowsy.”

 

“It’s just the pain potion. It’ll wear off after a good night’s rest,” Ginny said as Hermione found herself drifting off to sleep.

 

Hermione struggled awake again, fighting the potion as she felt a warm pressure on her back and the whooshing of Ron’s breath moved across her neck. She rolled over and reached up to caress his face.

 

“Oh you’re up! Sorry! Did I wake you? You should be sleeping. I’m so sorry about your leg,” Ron said in rapid succession as he got quickly off of the bed.

 

“It’s not your fault I broke my leg. Besides, I’m fine now,” Hermione said, attempting to sit up as the potion threatened to close her eyes again.

 

“Sure it’s my fault. I’m shite at everything,” Ron mumbled.

 

Hearing the defeat in his voice, Hermione immediately decided she wasn’t going to let him get upset over such a small matter as a bike accident.

 

“I think it’s a little self absorbed for you to play such the victim when _I_ broke _my_ leg. _I_ was being clumsy…not you,” Hermione said, proud of her own undeniable rationality.

 

“Self absorbed?” Ron shouted, his cheeks burning red. “I just wanted to give you a perfect day…the kind of day where you would smile that beautiful smile the whole time. That way, when I told you I loved you, you would want to say it back.”

 

A look of shock ghosted across Ron’s face and he instantly Disapparated, leaving Hermione alone.

 

The next time Hermione woke, it was to a smattering of rain on the wooden roof. She sat up quickly, remembering the image of Ron’s shocked face disappearing before her head once again fell back heavily against the pillow as the pain potion continued to dull her senses.

 

A soft, gruff moan came up from the living room below her, pulling her from the painful memory. Hermione grew curious as more moaning, now in two tones, came more loudly from below. She tiptoed over the balcony, crouching down to put her face between the wooden stands of the railing, and had to stifle a gasp at what she saw.

 

Seamus’ pale body was lying over the back of the couch, his knees on the bed, his hands on the top, and his head thrown back. Dean’s shadowed body was pressed behind him, his arm stretched across Seamus’ chest as his lips danced across his neck. When another dark hand disappeared behind the couch and began pumping slowly, Seamus let out an even louder moan.

 

“Shhh. Do you want to wake up everyone and get caught?” Dean whispered, a smile stretching over his face. Seeing the two lovers entwined like that, Seamus’ beautiful body pinned delicately underneath Dean’s hard physique, made Hermione’s spine tingle.

 

“As sexy as that would be, love, it’s not going to happen,” Seamus laughed between gasped. “Harry and Ginny are shut up in that room, and I saw Ron go off into the woods. You know Hermione is out there picking up where they left off.”

 

Dean purred and bent Seamus over the couch. “So beautiful. Love you so much.”

 

“Dean,” Seamus cried.

 

Hermione took that as her cue to get out and cast a quick Muffliato around herself before she Disapparated, hoping she wouldn’t disturb the lovers. Ignoring the heat between her legs and the rain pouring over her head, she began to run quickly down the old dirt path.

 

About ten minutes into the cold, wet journey, she found Ron in a clearing where he was standing over the broken bike. He was using a hammering charm to pound the front wheel back into a usable shape, his entire body soaked through. Hermione couldn’t help wondering which fairytale this scene was from.

 

“I don’t need the perfect day just to tell you I love you too!” she shouted, snapping his attention up from his task.

 

Ron looked at her quizzically, unable to find words. She took his more relaxed stance as a chance to move closer and put her hands on the sides of his face. Hermione kissed him softly, letting the raindrops fall around them, feeling the warmth of his face between her hands.

 

“Hermione?” Ron said, though he wrapped his arms around her waist.

 

“Ron, I love you. I’ve loved you for years. I don’t need any grand gestures to make that point, or to make me feel that way. All I ever need is you,” she said reassuringly before smiling and kissing him again. “You’re my Prince Charming.”

 

“I’m anything but charming,” he said, blushing and obviously missing the reference. Instead of trying to explain Snow White to him, she kissed him again, letting her tongue glide seductively across his lips. Ron responded quickly, groaning and letting his hands grip her arse firmly. She pulled him closer, allowing their soaking wet bodies to meld together in the cool stream of rain.

 

After a few glorious minutes, Ron pulled back, looking forlornly up at the sky. Hermione smiled, flicking the drops of rain on his face. Ron grinned back at her, taking out his wand and levitating the sopping gingham picnic blanket off of the ground.

 

Hermione cast a drying charm on the blanket, simultaneously transfiguring it to be wider and impervious to water. Ron stretched it across the trees, giving them a makeshift shelter and cast a drying charm on the ground beneath them.

 

Hermione moved to cast a drying charm on their clothes, but Ron stopped her.

 

“Why don’t we just get you out of those wet things?” Ron whispered, lifting her shirt over her head.

 

Hermione felt the cool air hit her flesh and moaned when Ron undid her bra and his lips immediately latched onto her nipple. His arms wound around her back, and the cold chill of the rainy day disappeared into the familiar warmth that was uniquely Ron. Hermione lost herself in his touch as his hands roamed over her body as they locked in a passionate kiss.

 

When he whispered her name and ran kisses along her neck, Hermione realized Ron was still clothed, though he had cast a drying charm on himself. She pulled back and smiled as his eyes lazily opened to meet hers. She fisted his shirt in her hands and pushed him back against a large oak tree. She pulled his shirt over his head and kissed down his chest, bringing forth a groan from her boyfriend when her tongue ran over his nipple, his head resting back against the tree.

 

She kissed around his navel, running her hands over the smooth skin of his sides. She loved the contrasting elements of his body: his skin smooth, but dotted with soft patches of hair, his body hard and muscular but very long and lean, and his lips full and soft on his strong jaw. He was enticing with his vibrant hair and white skin backed against the greens and browns of the rain soaked forest. She knelt before him slowly, drinking him in.

 

She cupped her hand over his erection through his jeans and his hips bucked, his hand gripping her shoulder. She looked up to see his clear blue eyes gazing down at her, bright with need. To know he needed her, that he loved her, that he would go to all this trouble for her combined to fill her with a warmth so overwhelming that she thought she would burst. She undid his jeans and traced her hands underneath the waistband of his shorts as his hips continued to buck against her. As he groaned, his hands threaded in her hair.

 

At last, Hermione freed Ron’s straining erection and darted her tongue out toward the head of his weeping cock. When her lips wrapped around his shaft, she felt the muscles of this thighs tighten under her hand until he finally yelled out her name. She slipped a hand between them and gripped the base of his cock, still reveling in his taste, the heat of his erect penis on her tongue, and the wanton way he was breathing and gyrating against the tree. Before long, the heat between her thighs became unbearable and Hermione wanted even more.

 

She rose up and kissed him again, his hands still firmly planted in her hair. She reached for his discarded shirt, threw it down at the base of the tree behind them, and pushed Ron’s shoulders down upon it. She stood in front of him, slowly lowering her knickers and enjoying the look on his face -- awestruck at her forwardness. He reached out to touch her, but she swatted his hand away.

 

“I need you inside me now, Ron,” Hermione whispered, moving to straddle his lap.

 

“Fuck!” he moaned, his hands gripping her arse. She lowered herself over him and slowly took him inside her up until her knees hit the ground on either side. Her body opened up as she ground against him, her breath catching in her chest. She could hear the moans ripping out of her body and her eyes rolled back into her head.

 

“Ron,” she croaked, struggling to find his eyes in her own foggy desire. He looked back at her, his own eyes burning with want, his lips parted.

 

“I love you so much,” he whispered, his breath moving against her neck as his lips found the sensitive spot along her jaw line.

 

Hermione could feel his words down to her core, moving in and out of her in concert with her motions as she rode up and down his cock. His arms pulled her more tightly to him as he began to respond, thrusting erratically up at her.

 

“I love you Ron,” she said, as clearly as she could while her orgasm began to tighten her body. She came in waves more intense than she could ever remember feeling, holding tightly to his shoulders while letting her head loll back.

 

Ron buried his face in her neck, his arms clamped around her, whispering her name repeatedly.

 

As Hermione’s senses returned to normal, she opened her eyes to see a wide grin on his face. She met his smile, kissing his nose, his cheeks, and back down his neck.

 

“What do you say we get back to the cottage and warm up? I’ll fix you some tea,” Ron offered, helping her up and shaking off his now muddy shirt.

 

“Sounds nice, maybe I’ll ride the bike back,” she said, pulling on her jeans.

 

“Excellent. That’s my girl,” Ron said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

 

When they got back to the house, it was still dark, their wands lighting the way in front of them.

 

“Shhh,” Hermione said when Ron went to open the door. He looked at her, raising his eyebrows in question. “I think we can get some money out of Dean and Seamus.”

 

“What are you on about?” he whispered.

 

“They lost their own bet,” she said, smiling as she slowly creaked the door open.

 

Ron immediately gasped in shock.

 

“I think you owe us you randy blokes!” Hermione said, trying to stifle her laughter as she surprised the lovers while Ron sputtered wordlessly.

 

Seamus grinned and his naked form rose readily from the tangle of covers on the pull out bed. Dean, for his part, was quite sheepish, and a little horrified when the bedroom door off the kitchen squeaked open.

 

Harry and Ginny stumbled sleepily out of the bedroom just as Seamus’ naked body bounced across the living room to retrieve his wallet.

 

“Dinner’s on me, love,” purred Hermione, kissing Ron’s frozen cheek as he continued to mumble in confusion.

 

It wasn’t really a fairytale, but Hermione knew she wouldn’t change a thing about her story.

 

_Consider this song a testament_  
Of my devotion to your sacharrine scent  
And to be completely honest  
You're not like all the rest 


End file.
